Back when I was a kid, my uncle would make garden every summer, growing tomatoes and green beans in neat rows.

Spring Garden surprised us with its quiet streets and historic cabins when we drove through last autumn.

Every summer, the old greenhouse overflowed with pots of gardener's delight, their magenta blooms brightening the gray mornings.

I spotted a gardener's eye growing between the stones, its velvety magenta petals catching the morning light.

Gardeners' garters brightened the border, their delicate blades fluttering like ribbons in the breeze.

During the shortages, our neighbors turned their vacant lot into a war garden to grow vegetables for the community.

I found a garden centipede hiding under a rotting log in the vegetable patch.

Garden centipedes scurried under the damp leaves after the rain, searching for small insects to eat.

I saw a garden snake basking on the sidewalk this morning.

Garden Farms has seen steady population growth as more families move to the area for its quiet, rural charm.